The Way to My Heart


Photo by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The Way to My Heart

“Shut the damn door and take off those muddy boots,” I shouted over the kitchen chaos with an authority that had not been earned. The second batch of blackened biscuits lay crumbled next to my Momma’s recipe box and the bitter winter turnip stew was boiling over in defiance. I swiped a stray bang behind my ear and straightened the crisp apron your aunt had tucked into my hand as we’d left the chapel. You stomped the snow off your boots and tilted your Stetson, revealing a shy smile.

“Something smells mighty good, Wife.”

For more Friday Fictioneer’s tales go here.
Our lovely host Rochelle Wisoff-Fields will give you 100 words to round up your story. Rochelle’s third book was published last week. You can find all of her books here.

33 thoughts on “The Way to My Heart

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  1. Oh, yeah, remember those first days of marriage… the “pot roast” of infamy. Even I had to admit it was a failure. I begged hubby to order a pizza that night. He did, and the phrase “Pot Roasted” has become a standard for anything so messed up it’s not worth saving.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Dear Tracey,

    The first steak dinner I made for my husband was charcoal on the half shell. He was delighted. He really likes his steak well done. I said that next time he could gnaw on a bag of Kingsford. At least one of us was happy with dinner that night. 😉
    Love your story. You have a way with words. Perhaps you could doctor the stew. (Yeah. I had to go there.)




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